Damned If I Do *Matt Murdock* (book one of Damned)

24) ...I'm just giving in

It was less than twenty minutes. Vera checked. Yet, it felt like an eternity. She stood by the main door, politely nodding to everyone coming in, classical music playing in her ears – it was some really nerve-wracking piece and Vera wondered if they were trying to drive her crazy in every way possible, because they did great job at that. She was tempted to turn it off, but she was too scared they would keep their promise and she would not take any chances.

An inconspicuous black car parked in front of the entrance and Vera knew instantly it was her ride. No one got out.

"Get in!" the voice from the phone ordered as the music fell silent.

Vera approached the car with pounding heart, clenching her fists so her hands wouldn't tremble visibly. Without the comforting presence of her new allies, she was on the edge for a while. Alone, she knew that if she got in that car, there would be no coming back. She could be trying how much she wanted, but her steps were slow and unsure. Car door opening on the back seat, she took a deep breath and slid in before she could change her mind. She closed them quickly and heard the lock instantly. She was trapped. The phone went deaf so she shoved it in her pocket.

She swallowed and squinted into the dark space. There were two other people apart from the driver – one on the passenger seat and one in the back with her. The latter observed her with piercing eyes, measuring her from head to toe, until his lips twisted in a melancholic smile and he looked into her eyes with burning intensity.

"You have the same lips," was all he said Vera felt a shiver run down her spine - his voice was filled with longing. She looked away, gasping quietly. She had no idea who this man was, but he made her hair stand on the end. Peripherally she saw him tilt his head. "Don't be shy. It was a compliment."

He tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers resting on the edge of her jaw. She stopped breathing. "She had long hair too, you know. Before."

Vera exhaled shakily as his hand disappeared. Whoever he was, he was a psychopath. And she was with him on a backseat of a locked car, ignored by its other occupants and it made her sick.

"Lose the coat and give me your hands, sweetheart," he asked her in voice nurses ask children to roll their sleeve up before taking the sample of their blood, reassuring them it won't hurt.

Fists still clenched, she did as he wanted – she didn't have enough courage to face him though. He drew the sleeves of her top and sweatshirt aside, fingers passing over her wrists delicately. She tensed every muscle in her body to stop herself from withdrawing. She saw enough movies and read enough books to know that this kind of people could went from tenderness to brutality in seconds.

She did turn around when she heard the sound of a duct tape. He twisted it around her connected wrists several times, tight but not strangling. He cut the tape, shoving its end behind her wrists, stroking the backs of her hands once more. "You can call me Sergei," he consented like he was giving up his best-kept secret and Vera couldn't find her voice.

Should she address him? Was he expecting her to introduce herself?

He was watching her with expectation. "Sergei, it's nice to meet you. My name is Vera." He smiled widely, hints of tenderness in his face and she was sure he was a lunatic.

"So similar," he whispered, "so similar..."

The ride had no end. Sergei kept watching her even when she turned her face away and looked to the front. His gaze was burning a hole in her head. She felt no hate radiating from him. She felt affection. And that freaked her out million times more.